They're in the Road
by Hailey Liddell
Summary: Well, Raven has a dream about B & for simplicity's sake can't get it out of her head...
1. A Vague Image

**~They're in the Road ~**

We had been driving for hours; the road seemed like a mirage. I looked over at B who was still sitting with his head in his lap. The car had taken on a silence that was making me squirm in my seat. So I was quite thankful to finally see a bridge emerging from the darkness not too far ahead. I sat still for a long time, once on the bridge, unfastening and refastening my seat belt. Being so particularly aware of the late hour, I was growing more impatient with myself. It seemed impossibly intimidating though: the dark. My eyes burned at their edges while I peered into it, searching for something: whatever that something was. Venturing back to B, a prickle of hatred began creeping along the walls of my mind. The thought of being alone in the illusion of nothingness that only such an intense darkness as this one could bring chilled me. What little the headlights illuminated somehow brought on a kind of eeriness and my movements were uneasy as I gripped the steering wheel. Just to my left sat a cement wall that I knew I'd somehow have to ascend. From my current seat, the pinnacle wasn't but slightly visible. My fingers started in with their impatient tapping; some part of me, no matter how frightened it was, was losing its last morsel of contentment. So through all my insecurity, my fingers pulled up the handle they'd been affixed to for the last half hour and the bitter air greeted me.

My heavy feet slid across the concrete, making their way over to the wall. A suggestion prompted by my numbing arms said to go back for my coat. The crossing was almost halfway over though, and so I went on. Several attempts failed before I finally managed to lift myself up to see over it. Down below sounds of the rushing water I had hoped for rose up to dance about my ears. It was the first time I had smiled this night. The air suddenly seemed that much sweeter as I took in the moment of grace, my nose pointed to the sky as I lay across the cement. Loose strands of hair tickled my eyelids as the winds picked up; the storm wasn't far away. I looked back to the car with my teeth pinching my lower lip; I would have to try and hurry.

Of course B didn't get out on his own, so I made my way to his side of the car. I opened the door and waited a moment; he didn't move. With a sigh, I began to pull him from his seat. The struggle seemed over dramatized with all the stumbling and groaning and pulling; he seemed insistent on putting up a final fight. I somehow managed to drag him to the wall none the less. Aside from his persistence on slumping to the ground, lifting him was easier than I had anticipated. Though my balance, as well as breathing, was uneasy at this point and there was a time or two when I expected his weight to come down on me. My eyes slid to their corners as if to check that the earth was still there to catch me.

Once I had his feet off the ground, the struggling continued. After countless shoves and heaves, his body was resting on top of the wall: his legs dangling in my face. The mad breeze froze my sweat and made me shudder as I stood watching his inactivity. My arms felt strangely light as I went for the final push; the one that would send the rest of him over. My eyes caught something moving to my left. I twisted around to let them peer deeper into the darkness. They made out the vague image of his head rolling down the road...


	2. I think I'm dreaming

The cold didn't fade with the dream, but seemed to wonder into the waking world with me. It seemed strange that such a draft would be drifting through a room with all of its windows tightly fastened. Any attempt to return to oblivion right away was too pointless to bother, so I decided to check the other windows throughout the tower.

It wasn't so much the darkness that came with the early morning that scared me so much as it was the dream. So much of it still clung to the front of my mind. A dreadful feeling kept prickling up my sides telling me to go and check on B. Several times I passed by his door with a raised hand, as if to knock, but either the fear of what I'd see or what I wouldn't drove me away each time. The windows of the operating room proved sealed, and with that I was confident enough that the draft had been imagined. From there I made my way to the kitchen to pull some orange juice from the refrigerator. Trying to keep busy in the early hours of an endless night were pointless; there was no avoidance to be had, my mind was fast at work on that dream.

Every detail was just so. The wind, his skin, my hair, all of it was as real as now. I brought my fingers to the tips of my violet strands, tugging and biting on my lip. But why? That was the most immediate question. It was a stupid question of course, I knew well enough what dreams meant this one included. But the supposed meaning didn't want to click in my mind, I guess. As fake as it was, the feeling of remorse hadn't quite faded. But then nothing about that dream had really faded. It came with enough disturbance to prolong a stay; a kind of stay that could make a person sick with worry if they were concerned enough. Taking a long sip from my glass, I could feel the sweat that made my shirt cling to my back. The glass almost escaped my pitiful grip as I went to set it down; the longing for sleep was already getting to me.

With nothing else to do, I made my way down the hallway to the door leading to the tower's roof. Upon pulling it open, sounds of rain appeared in the silence. Had I not been freezing already, I might've been content to go and sit in it for a time. I tried to concentrate on the falling water, but my eyes were wanted to slide to their corners for a glimpse of his door. In defeat I twisted my neck and peered though the stillness as if to check for some random movement. There was none of course and I sighed. If only he had been up to stay with me and make jokes to reduce the dream to a mere comical arrangement of images. Maybe have it so that I chased after the head and when I finally caught up with it, his body would come up to surprise me with a hug. The confidence to wake him wasn't anywhere near me though, and so I had to let him sleep.

The question of what to do with myself was rising. Suddenly I felt awkward just standing in the hallway and wondering the various rooms. Returning to sleep was the most obvious choice, but not at all the most preferred. Not that there really was another choice to be had. I sighed. What could be done? If I was lucky I'd be too tired to dream and wake up soon enough. The matter seemed resolved in some sense of the word. A strange kind of sadness was still lingering, and I worried that it would affect my unconscious self. Still, there wasn't much to be done. Surprisingly heavy eyelids were trying to fall over my eyes now as I slid toward the bed, but I couldn't quite help stopping in front of his door one last time. This time I pressed my ear to the door, listening every so intently to try and pick up on any noise that might make itself known to the night. Nothing came to my ears but what might've been the ever so faint sound of his breathing. Images of him holding me appeared on the back of my eyelids as I listened. I thought of what he might think or say if he were to suddenly wake up and find me at his door. A small smile crept along my face as I pictured his all confused. "What're you doing?" He'd say with those wide eyes. And with my own still shut I'd smile at him, "I think I'm dreaming." ~


End file.
